


evil villain laugh not required

by kindclaws



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, F/M, all your favs are supervillains, except Bellamy he's just trying to do his job, villain wrangler au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-20
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-07-16 03:22:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7249990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kindclaws/pseuds/kindclaws
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Let the record show that Bellamy Blake did not set out intending to compile a phonebook of every supervillain in Arkadia. He's just trying to do his job, goddammit, and it would be a lot easier if superheroes would stop trying to kidnap him every week.</p><p>(inspired by that lovely villain wrangler tumblr post!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	evil villain laugh not required

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this post [here.](http://kindclaws.tumblr.com/post/146174862770/inreyeswetrust-ladynorbert-beka-tiddalik)
> 
> CONTENT WARNINGS: nothing too dark is planned. Do be aware of canonical minor character death in this chapter. 
> 
> I have absolutely NO IDEA how foster systems/child services/court cases work. Take this with a grain of salt. Also, this is definitely a romanticized portrayal of literal supervillains. Take that with some salt too. Also, pneumonia is a bitch.

 

Their origin story starts within the walls of their drafty apartment over the neighbourhood coin laundry, as winter whistles through the rafters and rattles the windowpanes. It's a harsher January than Bellamy can remember, and the wind chill leaves his hands raw and bleeding even with two pairs of dollarstore gloves layered on top. He finds bitter satisfaction in shoveling mountains of snow piled in the driveways of mansions across town, in the tattered bills he counts with frostbitten fingers, every dollar buying them a little more time.

Time doesn't help when Octavia's cough stretches into something more sinister, into something that squeezes her lungs and leaves her wheezing on a mattress that's more slats than padding. Bellamy lies awake five nights in a row listening to her struggle to breathe, in coughs that grow increasingly weaker and less determined the more painful it becomes. 

In the mornings he gets up when he hears Aurora's alarm clock go off in the next room. He's already mostly dressed, having worn an extra layer to bed so they can save on the electricity bill, so he goes directly to the kitchen and puts a pot of water on. He puts two slices of bread in the toaster to start, digs around in the back of the cupboard for the instant oatmeal packet Aurora will eat in silence. He retreats back into his and his sister's bedroom just as Aurora comes out of hers. 

Octavia stirs at the sound of his sock-clad feet creaking on old floorboards, and he winces. The damage is done, her eyes already blinking open, so he sits gingerly on the edge of her mattress and presses his hand to her forehead like he knows what he's doing. Octavia flinches away with a hoarse groan.

"Your hand is  _icy_ ," she complains.

"Like your heart," he quips back, but their usual morning banter is weak and they know it. There's not much sense beating around the bush when they both know neither got much sleep with her coughing. "How do you feel?"

"Like shit," Octavia says mournfully. "Feels like every supervillain in Arkadia marched their evil robot army over my ribs. I'm supposed to hand in a book report tomorrow, Bell."

"I'll talk to your teacher," he replies immediately, already reworking his mental schedule for the day. Octavia's school is several blocks away from his high school, but if he forgoes lunch he should be able to make it there and back on his spare. "Mr. Pike, right? The one you were complaining about?"

"That's the one."

Octavia's voice is getting hoarser with every sentence, and Bellamy already feels guilty for having exhausted her this much. Aurora's muffled yell from the kitchen lets him know the water's finished boiling, so he flicks Octavia's nose playfully and goes to make some tea. 

Aurora is stirring her oatmeal tiredly, her hair half pulled up in a bun, the collar of her shirt wrinkled and worn. Bellamy smooths it out before she absentmindedly bats his hands away. 

"Mom," Bellamy says quietly, even though he knows she's not going to want to hear this. "I think we should take Octavia to a doctor."

"With what money?" Aurora answers. A stranger would find her voice perhaps a touch too stern, a touch too uncaring, but Bellamy knows his mother like the back of his hand. She's just as worried as he is, and angry that they've had to have this same conversation three times this week. They hoped time would ease Octavia's wracking coughs. But it doesn't seem to be working. 

"I told you, I'll pick up some more work," Bellamy starts. "In a few months I'll finish senior year and I'll find something - "

"We've talked about this, Bellamy," Aurora interrupts sharply. She does not look him in the eye. "Octavia will get better on her own, and you'll go to that college of yours, and you will both do great things."

Bellamy sways a little on his feet. 

"She can't do great things if she's dead," he says flatly. Aurora finishes her oatmeal, sets the bowl in the sink. 

"She'll get better on her own," she repeats tonelessly, and then she pulls on her boots and coat and walks out the door. For a moment Bellamy stares at the closed door. He thinks about their old apartment, the one they lived in before Octavia was born. He remembers only the translucent, billowing curtain hung over the sliding glass door in the kitchen, the scattered collection of flowerpots on the balcony, Aurora's long dark hair tickling his ear as she bent over to help him hold the watering can up. He thinks about her voice, singing, his own attempts to harmonize, how her sudden quiet after Octavia's birth left him reeling and confused. He thinks about holding his little sister for the first time. He thinks about never holding her again. 

Bellamy goes to get their coats. 

"'Sup?" Octavia slurs as he shakes her awake. 

"Hey, O," he says, forces a smile. He strokes her hair comfortingly, and she all but pushes her temple into his palm, seeking affection involuntarily. "We're gonna go see a doctor."

"If you insist," she sighs, and gets dressed with painstaking slowness, pausing often as coughs wrench through her body. Bellamy wraps her up so tightly in her scarf that just her eyes are showing, green and sharp. She rolls them exaggeratedly to let him know just what she thinks of his overprotectiveness, but she's too tired to put up much more of a fight as he locks the apartment behind them and hurries her onto a bus towards the hospital. 

They learn two hard truths that day.

The first: Bellamy's instinct was correct. Octavia's cough had given way to a much more dangerous case of pneumonia. Their doctor prescribes fluids and bedrest, and Bellamy gives in to an overnight stay at the hospital without too much fuss, because he is only eighteen years old and he is very tired and it does not seem like a terrible crime to let someone else take care of his sister for just a few hours. While waiting for morning he falls asleep in a stiff plastic chair at her side, machines beeping softly like the heartbeat of some great creature curled around them. 

At 5:23am a nurse shakes him awake and stills his questions with a finger pressed to her lips. She glances significantly at Octavia, who is having the best rest she's had in over a week, and so Bellamy follows her out of the room without protest. 

Before dawn no one has the strength or patience to deliver news gently. Aurora's been killed by a drunk driver who swerved over the curb as she was waiting to cross the street, on her way home after a long double shift. Bellamy's told the force of the impact made it fast, practically painless. 

_Painless._

What a funny way to describe the panic that seizes up his chest, makes his hand grasp uselessly at thin air until it finds the counter of the nurses' station. It may have been painless for Aurora. For her sake, for the mother he remembers, he hopes it was. But it's never painless to be the ones left behind. He leans over, shoulders bowed with the weight of the world, the burden Atlas must have known, and he does not know how to breathe for a moment. The sharp taste of blood returns him to reality. The nurse says he's bitten the inside of his mouth. He swats away her gentle hands and asks to be given the paperwork.

 

 

 

 

 

A few hours later he's back in his stiff plastic chair, staring at the calculus textbook in his lap with unseeing eyes. He should really finish this problem set before the quiz on Thursday, if he wants to keep up the marks that his scholarships require. But college suddenly seems very far away.

Octavia is watching the news on a little TV in the corner of the ceiling. Her eyes are red but dry. When he told her she cried at once, furiously, like a summer thunderstorm. And then the torrential downpour was over, just as quickly as it had come upon them, leaving Bellamy wrung out and reeling. He does not know what to do with the tear-stained statue that has taken his sister's place. Neither of them have said anything in hours. 

The newscaster's sympathetic voice is recounting the dramatic collapse of what would have been Arkadia's tallest new skyscraper - had it not been brought down yesterday by the diabolical whims of Chief TonDC. Bellamy glances up, briefly, to helicopter footage of twisted steel and rescue teams picking through the rubble. The TV cuts to a press conference held in front of city hall, the masked superhero The Chancellor is shaking his fist at the camera and demanding that Chief TonDC face him one-on-one. 

Bellamy shakes his head and tries to refocus on his calculus homework. Superhero vs supervillain conflicts are nothing new in Arkadia, not since the fallout several decades ago that swept the planet and left a surge of superpowers in its wake. Bellamy tries not to let it interfere with his daily life. Sometimes it's unavoidable - once or twice a quick lunch at the mall with Octavia has turned into an entire day of being stuck inside because some asshole supervillain has decided to march his robot army down Phoenix Street, or a nighttime skirmish with a superhero has left a giant gaping crater in the usual route he takes to school. But it's ordinarily not a big deal. 

And with the spectre of Aurora's death hanging over him, Bellamy really can't bring himself to care today. His world has suddenly become very small. Just him and his sister.

The door to their hospital room slides open just as The Chancellor is loudly condemning all acts of vigilantism or otherwise questionable superpowered activity. Bellamy and Octavia both look at the blonde girl who pokes her head in and gives an awkward little wave. 

"Hi there, I'm Keenan, I'm a volunteer with the Supers for Sickness organization?" she says, like it's a question. They both stare blankly at her. The Chancellor continues to spout bullshit. "Can I come in?" she adds. 

"Yeah, sure," Bellamy says flatly, even though he's really waiting for the doctor to come back and tell him he can take Octavia home, for however long 'home' will be _home_ , now that Aurora is gone gone _gone_. 

"Okay, great!" Keenan says, skipping in and closing the door behind her. She's wearing a truly hideous yellow vest with a tiny cape attached to the back. Bellamy tries not to stare. "Hi, Octavia, sweetie, how are you feeling?"

"Like shit," Octavia answers hoarsely, and Keenan's smile falters just a little bit. Bellamy deeply regrets teaching his kid sister how to swear. 

"Well," Keenan says, nervously readjusting papers on her clipboard. "I'm here to try to change that! I take it you haven't heard of Supers for Sickness before, so I'll give you a quick little spiel. Basically we do meet and greets for kids in hospitals to meet their favourite superheroes! Isn't that exciting?"

Octavia stares at her blankly. Keenan waits for a moment longer than is strictly comfortable, her smile achingly hopeful. Then she bites her lip, sneaks a glance towards the TV in the corner. She brightens at the sight of The Chancellor.

"What about The Chancellor?" she asks Octavia. "Would you like to meet him? Wouldn't that be cool?"

"He sounds like a dweeb."

"Oh," Keenan says. "Well, you know. Arkadia has a lot of superheroes. Isn't there anyone you can think of? Anyone you look up to? We have lots of volunteers and we can track down your favourite!"

Again, silence. Octavia looks back at the TV. They've started replaying footage of the skyscraper wreckage. Keenan taps a bright yellow pen against her clipboard, and Bellamy feels an oncoming headache. 

"I want to meet Chief TonDC," Octavia says suddenly, and Keenan rocks backwards on her heels, looking rather shell-shocked. 

"Uh," she says. "Well, you see, when we say Supers for Sickness, we really mean super _heroes_ , not super _villains_. We're not exactly in contact with any supervillains, given the fact that they're, you know, _evil_ \- "

"I don't want to meet anyone else. They're all boring," Octavia says petulantly. She shimmies down in her bed and pulls the sheets over her head, signaling a very definitive end to the conversation. Keenan swallows hard, and then abruptly turns on her heel and makes to leave the room. Bellamy's out of his chair at once, calculus textbook forgotten, running after her. He nearly trips over a nurse wheeling a cart of supplies, and stammers a rushed apology before darting away to catch up to Keenan. 

"Hey," he calls, reaching out to catch her shoulder. "Hey!"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Blake," she says apologetically. "Do you want a business card? You can call us back if your sister changes her mind."

"You don't know Octavia," Bellamy huffs. "She's not gonna change her mind. Listen, you said your volunteers track down anyone the kids want. So she wants a supervillain - yeah, it's kind of weird, all right. But you can track her down, can't you?"

"Are you suggesting Supers for Sickness send innocent volunteers to chat with a highly dangerous supervillain that even experienced superheroes haven't been able to apprehend?" Keenan says coolly. 

Bellamy stares at her for a moment. 

"Forget it," he says. "I'll do it myself."

 

 

 

 

 

Bellamy debates joining up with Supers for Sickness. 

On one hand, he knows what he's planning is incredibly risky. Supervillains are dangerous and unpredictable, and Chief TonDC is no exception to the rule. He could potentially make her very, _very_ angry by asking her to meet his sister. He's fairly certain that they'll be all right if she actually agrees to cheer up Octavia, because - well. It seems illogical, and inefficient, and generally not very supervillain-y to agree to meet with two civilian teenagers and _then_ murder them. Chief TonDC is all about bigger, brighter statements. 

But if she doesn't agree - if she's insulted by Bellamy's request, well. Then he might be in trouble, and he's not sure he would want that to reflect badly on Supers for Sickness, which honestly seems like a pretty _good_ organization. 

In the end he does sign up for one of their volunteer training sessions, if only because they must have _some_ kind of tips on how to track down a superpowered, secretive being. It doesn't pay off. Training is boring and mostly useless. Afterwards he gets a certificate and a cheery yellow vest with a tiny cape, just like the one Keenan was wearing. He stuffs it in the back of the closet one day while Octavia is at a friend's house and resolutely decides to never, ever wear it. So he works by himself, instead, without Supers for Sickness.

The weeks that follow are spent largely in his high school's computer labs, in libraries, in cafes with the news playing on loop. Bellamy pays more attention to the eternal superhero vs supervillain conflict than he ever has before. He fills entire notebooks with everything he can find, not just on Chief TonDC but others as well, every rumour of sightings or possible civilian identities carefully marked with an asterix if he thinks it's worth exploring. 

He plasters on his most charming smile. He pounds on doors asking for answers. He sits in parks scribbling clues in his notebooks as his classmates celebrate the arrival of spring, the fast-approaching end of high school, the university life on the horizon. Bellamy already knows what he'll have to give up. His concerned teachers think he's upset that he'll no longer be going to college. They slip him more scholarship applications with his returned assignments, leave post it notes on his desk insisting he look at more options, and Bellamy is too tired to tell them he no longer even cares about college. 

Not with the custody case weighing on him. Child services took one look at him, eighteen years old and not yet graduated from high school, and shook their heads. When the hospital released Octavia, they released her to a temporary foster family that lives four bus stops away from Bellamy. There's a court date set after his graduation, but Bellamy has already conceded a terrible, aching defeat. He has no idea how to build his case, can't afford a good lawyer, doesn't know any of the rules the justice system plays by. He knows he's going to lose Octavia to the foster system, maybe to a family that doesn't let him visit after school and help her with her homework. 

It's a thought to terrifying to think about, too large to comprehend, so he distracts himself with the search for Chief TonDC. One last present to his little sister, the last thing he'll be able to do to make her smile.

At last he finds the source of a gossip journalist who's friends with a friend of one of Bellamy's snow-shoveling clients. Out of them he gets only a single name. Not a surname, or a street name, or that of yet another bread crumb on the trail. 

 _Grounders._ A cafe on the far side of the city. 

The next day Bellamy walks across the stage to get his high school diploma, poses obligingly for Octavia's foster family to snap a photo, and then says goodbye to the blurry faces of classmates he will probably not keep in touch with. And then, every morning, he wakes up and takes a streetcar to Grounders.

The first two days he takes a seat that gives him a perfect view of the door and looks up with his heart in his throat every time the bell jingles. The barista, Echo, starts laughing at him by the first afternoon. She doesn't say anything directly to his face, but he glares at her as she wipes down a table on the other side of the cafe and doesn't even attempt to hide her chuckles as an innocent customer walks in. The third day he sets himself up with the classified ads and starts applying for jobs. 

Bellamy thinks about the third labour of Hercules as he writes down qualities like _dedicated worker_ and _self-motivated_. He thinks about the Greek gods up on their mountain, dreaming up new impossible tasks, Hera sending Hercules to chase the Stag of Artemis down. He thinks about Hercules spending an entire year of his life in the wilderness, always a step behind a stag that runs as fast as a speeding arrow. He writes down _excellent work ethic_ , and reminds himself that in most versions of the legend, Hercules _does_ complete the labour.

At the beginning of the third week, he is growing despondent, and then - the chair across from him scrapes across the tiled floor. Bellamy looks up from his book in surprise as a stern-looking woman in a suit jacket drops into the other chair. She sets her drink on the table and purses her lips at him. The crescent tattoo around her eye crinkles, and a jolt of fear passes through Bellamy."

"I've been told you're looking for me," she says, straight to the point. 

"Chief TonDC?" he says. He closes his book, wonders if he should stand and shake her hand. No, it would be weird, she's already sat down. She might light him on fire or something. 

"In some circles," she answers, and takes a long swig of her coffee. "You haven't been discreet with your questions, Bellamy Blake. I've known about you for weeks now. You live in 319 Walden, apartment 5b. Your only immediate family is your twelve year old sister, Octavia Julia Blake. You graduated Arkadia Secondary with a 96% average and yet..." she muses, as Bellamy's hands curl around his armrests and freeze there. "You're not going to college. You sit in this cafe every single day preparing resumes and waiting."

"I wanted to find you," Bellamy says, somehow. He's not sure how the words come out. His throat has never been drier. The cafe is suddenly deserted. Even Echo, normally watching over everyone with a critical gaze from behind the counter, is gone. There will be no one here to witness his murder. 

"No one finds me unless I want to be found," Chief TonDC says. She reaches forward, and Bellamy's heart just about stops beating. Her fingers close around a packet of sugar in the basket in the middle of the table, and he doesn't dare to breathe until she tears it open and dumps half in her drink. She holds the half-empty packet out to him. "Sugar?"

"No thanks," he says in a strangled voice. He coughs to clear the pressure on his chest, and then braves the question. "So you wanted to meet me?"

"Your questions are irritating," she says. "What do you want, Bellamy Blake? Will I have to resort to murder to get you off my trail?"

"Nope," Bellamy says. "No murder necessary, promise. I am stubborn, but not _that_ stubborn. You really don't have to go through the trouble of murdering me."

She raises a dark eyebrow at his rambling, so Bellamy shuts his mouth and pulls out his phone, sliding it across the table. Octavia's face fills his lockscreen, her eyes crossed and her tongue out. He's in the corner of the picture, cut off by her terrible selfie skills, but it's still his favourite picture of them. Chief TonDC eyes it with vague distaste.

"That's my sister," he says, even though he knows Chief TonDC has already done her own (very terrifying) research on him. "A few months ago, she got a really bad case of pneumonia. While she was hospitalized, an organization that sets up meet-and-greets for sick kids and superheroes sent a volunteer to find out who she wanted to meet... Except... She didn't want any superheroes. She wanted you."

"Me," Chief TonDC says flatly. 

"Yeah," Bellamy echoes. He takes a very stupid chance and adds, "You probably don't hear that you're a role model very often, since you... try to take over the city every once in a while... but my sister's a stubborn kid. She wanted you, or no one."

"She's out of the hospital now," Chief TonDC says, pushing . "I see no reason why you're still trying to chase me down."

Bellamy stares very hard at his phone, at Octavia's upside down face, until the screen goes dark. He takes a deep breath. 

"Our mother died the night we were at the hospital. Hit by a drunk driver when she was coming home. Octavia hasn't taken it that well. I just...I'm probably going to lose the custody battle next month, and I can't bring our mom back... I just wanted to do something good for her while I still can."

"This city is full of sob stories," Chief TonDC answers, and Bellamy thinks the words are supposed to feel like weapons, but her voice is, shockingly, incrementally softer. "You're nothing special."

"No," Bellamy agrees. "But she is. She's my sister, and she's amazing, and all she wants is to meet you. Can you do that? I promise it'll be completely secret, no cops, no superheroes, no trap of any kind. This is just - "

"You're a fool, Bellamy Blake," Chief TonDC interrupts. Her voice no longer holds that hint of empathy. She grabs her Americano and stands up in one smooth motion, the movement of a woman that knows exactly how much space she takes up in the world. "Good bye."

"No, wait," Bellamy cries, shoving his phone and his book into his backpack, but she's already moving unbelievably fast, the chimes above the door tingling behind her. He runs out on the sidewalk, still shrugging his backpack on, and looks wildly in both directions. Every glimpse he catches in the crowd of black curls or a navy suit jacket turns out to be wishful thinking. He's left standing alone outside of Grounders without any idea where she's vanished. 

He turns back around, looking through the cafe's window. Echo has reappeared without warning. She's leaning on the counter, arms crossed over her chest, her expression almost pitying. It stings more than her laughter did. Their eyes meet, and slowly, she shakes her head. And Bellamy knows, without a doubt, that he's ruined his chances. Chief TonDC won't be returning to her favourite coffeeshop.

 

 

 

 

 

 

A month later he is standing in a courtroom in his nicest dress shirt, trying not to collapse. Octavia is in the back with her temporary foster family, they won't let her talk to him yet, and he doesn't know if that makes the inevitable easier or harder. He doesn't want to lose her. He already knows the universe does not care what he wants.

The doors at the back of the courtroom bang open, and everyone turns their head. Bellamy's already ragged breathing catches in his throat as he meets the eye of the newcomer that's striding purposefully to the front of the room. 

"I'm sorry for my tardiness, your honour," Chief TonDC says with a cool smile. She looks nothing like her masked alter ego. "I wasn't called onto this case until the last minute. I hope you haven't been waiting for long?"

"It's all right, Indra," the judge says with a sigh. "At least we can start now."

Chief TonDC - _Indra!_ \- smiles as she takes her seat next to Bellamy. She does not look at him.

"Close your mouth, Bellamy Blake," she says out of the corner of her mouth. "You look like a fool."

"What are you doing here?" he hisses, as child services steps up to begin their statement. "What happened to my court-appointed lawyer?"

"Left him in a dumpster."

" _What?_ "

"He's still  _alive_ ," Indra whispers back, looking disgruntled with the line of questioning. "I'm trying to make sure you get to keep your sister, Blake. Will you let me do my job?"

"You're a _supervillain_ ," he breathes, glad no one's close enough to see his lips moving. " _What the fuck_."

"This is my day job," Indra replies smugly, and Bellamy stops complaining when she stands up to defend him, proud shoulders thrown back as she outlines character references from teachers and past bosses, pulls up a budgeting plan that she must have hacked off his phone somehow, and concludes with her belief in Bellamy's ability to raise his sister with such confidence that Bellamy wants to believe her himself. He does not want to hope, doesn't want to cling to the possibility that this might work out in case he's devastated all over again, but after just a few minutes the gavel drops and the judge calls for the next case to begin, and Bellamy - 

\- is swept up by a shrieking whirlwind of joy, Octavia's skinny arms flung around his waist, her face buried in his chest, tears staining his nicest shirt. He wraps his arms around her just as tightly and thinks about never letting ago, about the impossible, about being together again. 

Indra waits for them to detach with a resigned air of impatience. Bellamy holds tightly to Octavia's hand, glances over his shoulder to make sure no one else is listening. 

"Octavia," he says lowly. "Remember Supers for Sickness?"

"Oh yeah," she says easily. "The _bores_."

"Well," Bellamy says. "Octavia, meet Chief TonDC."

Indra sticks her hand out, gives them a shark-toothed smile that barely hints at the persona underneath the suit jacket and the modest jewelry. 

"Oh my god," Octavia says, and goes straight for a hug. Bellamy almost laughs at the expression on Indra's face, but restrains himself at the last minute, because, well, she _is_ a supervillain. Looking back, he realizes he had no idea what he was getting into. No idea that in just a few years, he would make the acquaintance of nearly every single one of Arkadia's supervillains. No idea that he just might do the unthinkable, and fall in _love_ with one.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is possibly the fastest I have ever written a chapter. Next chapter... Raven? Clarke? Miller? Jasper and Monty?  
> Who knows. (I know.)


End file.
